Blinded
by Adahanne
Summary: There was no one to blame, and that was what made them the furious. Desperately searching for a scape-goat, they send the recluse to a death in exile. Had the girl any luck, that would've been what had happened. She could've passed with nothing but a vague legend to her name. Her life could've been simple, but, as she had come to suspect, her luck had run out long ago.
1. Chapter 1

The lord and his lady looked out on the garden from their balcony. The Lord heard his wife sigh quietly beside him, and he grasped her hand. They had been too lenient on their youngest daughter. They both knew this well enough. She had been born after the Lord and Lady had left the courts to settle down in the countryside. They had been tired of the politicking, and their getting older finally gave them excuse to find refuge in the outskirts of the Kingdom. At the age of 11, though, the young girl was still being spoiled far too much. Girls her age had already begun learning the delicate process of managing courtly practices, yet their daughter was running through the garden below. Running was in itself enough to ostracize any noble, but even more so, their daughter was running with the daughter of a maid for company. Already her fair complexion was beginning to brown and freckle under the glow of the sun. It was even beginning to have an effect on their oldest son. It was true; they had been too lax with their children. This nonsense of playing with a maid's daughter had to stop. The lady sighed once more, and the lord knew what they were both thinking. One more week. They would give the girl one more week to live as she wished as they found a tutor for her. By her next birthday they would send her to court. Hopefully by 14 they would still be able to find a suitable husband for her.

She did not hunt often. It was enough of a challenge to locate prey, but her lack of sight added another problem: she could hardly ever find arrows after she shot them. A soft sigh escaped from the huntresses' lips. She knew quite well that winter would be coming once again, and she would need the smoked meat to help her survive. She had barely made it through the last one. She pulled the animal skins tighter around her body. She supposed she could just steal meat from a village, but the idea displeased her. It was not that she had qualms from stealing from the humans. Her boots and her reputation were good evidence that stealing (and all around causing trouble) for the humans pleased her quite a bit, but it also meant taking a risk, and that alone gave her pause. No, the huntress decided. She would hunt for now, and she would leave the thievery as a last resort. It was better this way. She wouldn't have to wash the stench of their society off her skin later. She heard a snap, and she paused in her walk. It was undeniably the steps of an animal. A rather large one, she guessed, probably a deer. It was being rather careless with its steps, but perhaps it was just stupid.

She followed closely, arrow prepped in her bow. Thankfully she was down-wind and she used that to her advantage. She was getting closer. She crouched, and waited for the beast to move near. She shifted her weight and heard a soft crunch as a result. She cursed under her breath, listening desperately to see if the deer had heard. The footsteps had stopped, but it seemed hesitant to flee. A vapid beast indeed, the huntress thought to herself. However, its stupidity was her good fortune. She knew it wouldn't be the best shot, but she knew she would have to take this risk. She pulled hard on the bowstring.

"Is anyone there?" A voice called, and the crouching hunter loosed her arrow in surprise. Humans were not supposed to be here. However she barely had to time to think about this before the feminine voice cried out in pain. The huntress cursed once again. She would have to leave the arrow. She moved to flee, but she paused. She didn't really care about the wounded girl, but the huntress hadn't gone too far from her home. None would come to search for the girl as was, but if the girl began to yell too loudly… they weren't so far that the noise wouldn't reach a neighboring village. It could be enough to cause the especially curious and foolhardy to come. With a swirl she marched up to the whimpering mess lying on the forest floor. Without a second thought, she knocked the girl out with a quick blow. Then, with deft fingers, she searched for the arrow. The huntress sighed once more when she found it lodged in the girls' lower calf. It had been a perfectly good arrow, one of the best the huntress had made. Now, however, the huntress broke the arrowhead off it as easily as she had knocked the girl out. She pulled out the shaft and then quickly reached and tore off a layer of fabric the girl was wearing, wrapping the fabric tightly around the wound. Nothing severe had been hit. The girl, obviously, was quite lucky. If she hadn't spoken, she surely would've been dead. A lead weight sat heavily in the bottom of the huntress's stomach. She would have to be more careful. This was already too much trouble caused by an idiot human.

With a grunt, the huntress pulled the girl over her shoulder. Another example of how lucky the girl was. If she had been any heavier, the huntress would've been forced to leave the girl to the wolves. However, having wolves around one's home was trouble enough, and so the huntress carried the girl back to her house. She would return later that night to cover the blood with dirt and check her snares for any meat. But, as the huntress already suspected, her own luck had run out a long time ago.


	2. Chapter 2

_Their daughter had protested at first. Her parents, however, never got mad at her. They knew that it had be their decisions that caused their daughter to struggle with her lessons. She wanted to be playing again, and she saw no reason to learn the way of the court. There were multiple times when their daughter had been caught playing once again with the maid's daughter. It had gotten to the point where the maid and her daughter both had to be sent away. The girl had cried in her rooms for days. The lady had often wanted to go and comfort the girl, but her lord's words stopped her. There would be little comfort for the girl when she left. She had to learn to be strong. The lady remembered well her own life and the times she had been ridiculed merely out of spite and petty jealousy. She had played those games herself, once. Yes, her daughter would have to be strong indeed. They could no longer spoil her as they had. And, fortunately, the lady did not have to wait long for their daughter. After she emerged from her rooms, she pursued her studies almost doggedly. _

The huntress slathered the girl's wound with a thick cream. It was cold to the touch, and the stench clogged the room, but it would keep the wound from festering. Touch told the huntress that the girl's skirts were quickly getting shorter. Soon all that would be left would be a thin silky material that the huntress had never encountered before. It seemed highly impractical to the huntress, but she couldn't deny that a part of her enjoyed the softness of the material as she brushed against it to tear yet another strip from the girl's dress. Her wound was being rather slow to heal, and it frustrated the huntress to no end. She couldn't keep drugging the girl with her sleeping concoction, but she still hadn't come up with a way to deal with the girl. The last time the girl had awoken she had reopened the wound while trying to escape. It was an easy task to knock her out again, and the huntress would not deny that a dark part of her enjoyed venting her frustration. She also couldn't deny that a very tiny part of her felt guilty at that dark, bitter joy. Guilt was easy to smother, however, and she knew that if she hadn't done as she had, the girl would've died by nightfall. With this thought, she tied the makeshift bandage tightly around the girl's wound. The huntress' sleeping potions were only so strong, and the only reason they had worked thus far was because the girl's body was trying to repair itself. Once the girl's body grew stronger, the huntress could no longer force her to sleep as she had. She was already too aware that the girl was growing thinner. The huntress sighed. She would go to town tonight to steal some food and skins. There really wasn't another option anymore. If she let the girl go, she could go to the villages and ruin the reputation the huntress had so aptly built, or she would attract any number of predators to the area. However if the huntress let her die, the body would scare away prey for weeks, if not longer. No, she was stuck caring for the wretched human. That made up her mind. She would give herself two more days of drugging the girl. She would offer food to the girl, and hope that was enough to make her stay. If the vapid human still insisted on running away, then predators be damned. They'd surely be less annoying. With a nod of her head, the girl grabbed a worn cloak from beside the door.

By now it was late evening, and she knew it would be dark by the time she reached the closest village. It did not matter to her, however. She had long ago been forced to memorize the way, and the blades at her sides assured her that she could handle a predator if necessary. Still, she was weary as she closed the door behind her. This is what those humans did to her. They made her all too aware of the empty rucksack bouncing lightly across her back. Sounds that she normally tuned out with ease flooded her senses. She shivered as she felt wind blow across her skin mockingly. Her body felt leaden, though she knew she moved rather stealthily through the woods. They made her afraid, and she hated them the more for it. She knew that if they truly saw her, they would see the marks she bared. If they truly saw her, they would lose their fear, and instead see a misshapen coward. She pulled her hood down lower over her head. They would not see her tonight, however. They would only see her persona, the beast of Waverly forest. None who dared enter her forest left. With a wicked smile, she forced her fears back to the recesses of her mind. She used her heightened senses to monitor the forest around her.

An owl cried out in the distance, but there was nothing else to be heard. The wind warned of winter's approach, but it still was warm enough that she felt comfortable under her cloak. Leaves rustled around her, and the owl cried occasionally, but otherwise the night was still. There was a time in her youth that she wondered what her forest home had looked like. She had heard it described, once, that the trees were green, and the bark was brown, but she hardly knew what any of it meant. Instead she interpreted her world through other means. In the hot seasons she would walk barefoot and feel the dirt and roots beneath her feet. She had long ago learned how to use her feet to check the path in front of her. The result was a somewhat peculiar gait, but there was hardly anyone to impress in the woods. She used her ears to listen to the world around her. She listened carefully for birdcalls. They assured her that predators were not around. While her lack of sight did cause problems, it also granted a certain level of freedom. She moved easily no matter the time of day. While humans could not function without their light, it mattered not to her whether the sun was up or down. It was exactly for this reason that she stole so easily from the villages. Some of the richer storeowners had taken to hire guards to defend their wares, but this only made her more excited. Sleep-deprived, frightened guards were better at telling grandiose stories then actually protecting anything. Often she would break into these stores on purpose. She could easily sneak by sleeping guards, or lure them away, and leave the store doors wide open. However she was always careful not to touch anything while in these stores, except a few necessities that were easily overlooked. She never stole everything she needed from one store. Instead she would steal a single fur here, another down the block. Always they would be small, almost unnoticeable. Hers was a vague legend, and that was for the best. Most people truly didn't believe that any beast existed. They believed her to be merely the product of tired minds, and rebellious kids. Stories were vague enough that any "sighting" of her merely made the reporter seem like an attention-grabber. In fact, numerous times it was just that. She merely was not worth the hassle of more interest. However, it was a superstitious lot, and the stories kept the people out of her woods. Just as she wanted. These woods were hers, and she was theirs.

However, it was now on the very outskirt of a village that the huntress now appeared. She crouched right before she entered the clearing, listening carefully to the sounds in the night. This village had yet to hire guards it seemed, and this vaguely annoyed her. It was undeniably less fun to torment someone, when they offer no challenge in return. With a sigh, she stood and walked into the village. It must be late this night, because even town drunks made no sound of exclamation to her sudden appearance. If even they were asleep, she'd have to be quick so no early risers would become aware of her presence. Their voices were much more credible than local drunkards claiming to see a ghost in the night. The huntress quickly paced towards a building she knew would contain much needed supplies. This building was hardly ever locked, and it was for precisely that reason that she saved thieving here for situations that required speed. She would have suspected that the owner here was merely more foolish than the rest, but she had long since stopped believing that for he had caught her once. It seemed that he had noticed odd tidbits of meat missing, and had decided to wait for the thief. She had strolled in, overconfident in her ability then, only to find herself quickly wrestled to the floor. She was trapped, hands pinned against the dirt floor. She knew that her hood had fallen in the scramble, and she felt his gaze on her, though she knew that feeling was merely a product of her mind. She uncontrollably flinched as she heard a low whistle from the form on top of her. "Jus' a girl…" a gruff voice said, and she immediately turned harsh. She spat at him, but if she hit her target, she did not know.

He made absolutely no movement on top of her. But as suddenly as he had come, his weight left her. She quickly scurried to her feet and listened carefully for his breathing. She heard a low sigh and she quickly turned her head to glare at him. "Blind, too?" he whispered. Panic overcame her, then, and without a second thought for her pride; she fled as quickly as she could. She had torn through the woods recklessly that night, not stopping until she had reached the hovel. She had curled up on the floor that night and had cried from the pure flood of terror that had filled her. She had cautiously returned a week later, but he had not been there. In fact, it seemed no one was any more aware of her presence then they ever had been. It was as if that night had never happened in their minds. At least, it had seemed that way until she carefully searched his shop the next night. It seemed he had left a platter of meats behind, all smoked to keep from rotting while they waited. They seemed too patient to her, too expectant, and in a petty fit of rage she had knocked the entire tray to the ground. Seconds after the tray crashed to the ground, the huntress had fled once again. When the huntress had returned out of desperation, the tray no longer laid waiting, but still her skin crawled. It was for this reason that the huntress rarely returned to this store, but here she was, glaring at a door that she couldn't even see. She felt it's rough wood beneath her fingers for a second, briefly trying to quell the terror that filled her memory. She loosed a long breath, and then twisted the smooth handle. The door opened easily beneath her hand. She paused for a second, and then stepped cautiously inside. She quickly began to search. She didn't know what exactly for. Of course she would grab some necessities before she left, but there were times, like tonight, that she would indulge herself out of spite for the man. It was how she had come across her boots. They must've been expensive, and the thought that they were now hers made her smile. However, she stiffened as she heard the door softly close and the locking mechanism click into place. Horror grew in her as she heard a soft chuckle. She had fallen for his trap again.

Dear Friends,

I will keep these author notes sparse, but now that story has progressed, I would like to ask three things:

Would this be a story that you would like to see continued?

If the answer to the first is yes, then anyone be willing to proofread for me?

Because the main character is blind, I've made sure not to include visual details. This is new to me as a writer, and I feel that it may have left my writing a bit stunted. Would it perhaps be better to include visual details but leave the main character blind to it? Or, is it truly fine as is?

I do not ask the first question to beg for compliments. Rather, I'd prefer constructive criticism. I cannot improve unless I am stretched, and I will not be stretched unless I have your help, my lovely readers. Thank you so much for reading this story thus far, and I hope to hear from you very soon!

Sincerely,

Adahanne


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you Catmouse and Karina Marinaiov for the wonderful encouragement! Catmouse, I hope this chapter provides clearer descriptions of the dreaded Beast Of Crowley Forrest.

Reviews, especially constructive criticisms, are welcomed

Sincerely,

Adahanne.

* * *

_ He still remembered a time when she had grasped his leg and smiled up at him with endearingly blue eyes. That time was gone now. Their daughter curtsied, as was the expected greeting for a Lord above her position. A quiet 'milord' and a complacent smile were upon her lips. Her body was still that of a child's, but she already behaved as a lady. In fact, the Lady thought, there is a disdain too old for her in those eyes. A disdain for them, the Lady thought. This realization would've made a weaker woman stagger, but the Lady didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Later that night her husband would hold and console her as she sobbed, but that moment would be saved behind locked doors. A noblewoman did not cry in public. Not even in front of one's daughter. Especially not in front of one's daughter. Nobles were not afforded the causal affection commoners so valued. Often those same commoners thought them lofty and cruel, and perhaps it was true that they were so, but that was the price the nobles paid for their position. The peasants worked in the fields, and mined iron, but the nobles had to be made of steel. The Lady felt a hand on her waist and she nodded. Her daughter would think of it as merely a normal greeting, but the Lord would understand. They must continue this horrid charade for the sake of their daughter's future success. Perhaps they could undo some of the damage when their daughter was older, and more established. The Lady knew that was unlikely. This was their lot in life. Each generation must learn that aid will not come and retribution shall always be swift and merciless. Their failure, after all, could bring a Kingdom to its knees. _

He had chuckled. How could he help it? Though the people were too superstitious to enter the forest, few truly believed the legends about the Beast of Crowley Forrest. They were too vague, too mixed, and too few in number. Too put it simply, they were too preposterous to be true. Yet, here he was, caging the mysterious Beast in his shop like a fool. Yes, it was true that he was a fool but even he could see how dangerous his position was. His eyes were drawn to her silver blades that dimly reflected the light from the candles he had left burning. He knew, blind or not, that she could kill him if she found him. He moved quietly away from the door. He hadn't wanted to do this. He hadn't wanted to put either of them in this situation again, but he needed information, and she was the only person that might be able to give it. Already he noticed that her head moved back and forth and she listened for his footsteps. A black snake. That's what she was with her knotted raven hair, and glistening blades. He took a careless step backward, away from her, and he knew too late he had made a mistake. She sprinted towards him with undeniable accuracy. She clearly had memorized the layout of his shop. He tried to be clever, and stepped lightly away, but this too she judged, and he saw it in her eyes. Abandoning his plan, he ran. He grabbed a wooden cutting board just as her metal fangs lunged at him with lightning precision. He felt and heard the two twin thunks her blades made when they slashed the board. By the king's beard she was fast! He jumped back as she quickly changed direction and instead went for his sides. Almost without conscious thought he knew two things: those blades were poisoned, and that he would too soon tire to keep out of her reach. This had to end. She lunged forward. He ducked, dropping the board to the floor as he did so, and metal hissed over his head. He stood and cringed slightly as his blow connected. He hadn't meant to hit her quite so hard, but the effect was what he wanted.

She grabbed her abdomen and her knives fell to the floor. He quickly kicked them out of her reach. He felt an elbow pressing into him and a weight knocked him harshly to the ground. His breath left him. He wheezed. And he rolled barely diverting a punch. He wrestled the lithe beast and pinned her to the floor just as he had before. She fought against his weight, but for all her muscle, she was still underfed and a woman. Ah, but she fought something fierce! He tried to say stop, but his breath still wheezed out of him, and he couldn't force the words out. And as he stared down at her, trying desperately to gain his breath back, a part of his brain was drawn to the scars on her hand, and her face. Just as it had, the candlelight seemed to outline the "x" drawn roughly over her skin. They had used a dull blade so the scars were sure to remain. "Stop" he said. Yet she did not. Not even a trace of recognition of the word flickered on her face. Aye, she aptly fit her legend; vague and beastly. It seemed to fit, then, that he did what he usually did when attempting to calm a wild animal; he sang. It was a poor song. Really it was more rasping than recognizable vocals, but movement beneath him began to cease. He didn't care the reason, he just cared that it was working. "I need to talk to you," he said.

"No" she hissed. When was the last time that she had spoken? She had at least responded, but even her voice didn't sound human.

"There was a girl. She ran away maybe two weeks ago. Have you seen her?" He cringed. He had sounded much too desperate to get information. He cursed when she finally smiled.

"Shot her," she said. Her voice purred like a cat that'd been given a mouse, and a deep knot settled in his chest.

"She's…" but he couldn't bring himself to say the word. Rose, he thought desperately.

"dead," she finished almost gleefully. Her smile didn't falter, and he searched her face with imploring eyes. All he saw were cold, milky eyes that stared deadly through him, and the equally dead scars that marked her. This was truly the Beast of Crowley Forrest. With stunted, shocked movement he moved off her. That was it, then. She leapt to her feet with surprising grace and bolted for the door. As she struggled to find the locking mechanism he went and picked up her daggers. She paused as she heard him moving closer, and then began searching the door frantically. He could see her hands shaking. She was afraid. He supposed that she should be. She somehow knew what lay in his hands. The snake had been defanged, and now she would try to escape with her life. But death was not his intent this night.

"Your daggers" he said and watched as she froze. He put them in her now still hands. Within a second he was pushed against the wall, daggers at his throat. He gulped, adrenaline pumping once more through his system.

"No mercy" she hissed once more, but he didn't know if she was speaking to herself or him. "Unlock," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the door. He reached over and turned the bolt. He closed his eyes and waited for the sharp bite of her metal. Instead he felt cold night air as she opened the door, and ran. The sun had just begun to rise over the forest, and in it's light he saw the dark-haired girl sprint towards the safety of its branches. He smiled, and surely thought himself clever, because he had discovered a secret tonight. The beast was surely a liar and cruel, but she was not a murderer. He had no doubts that Rose was in far better care than she had been. That was enough. He turned back to his shop, surveying the damage that had been done. Despite the voracity of the fight, surprising little had actually been done to damage to surroundings. The cutting board he had used as a shield lay abandoned on the ground; two thin cuts marred its surface. He had knocked down a few miscellaneous items while he had dodged, and was surprised to find a broken plate among their number. He hadn't heard it shatter. But then he had been focusing on more important information at the time. It also surprised him that really he had caused all the damage.

Now that he wasn't at risk for dying, he marveled at her memory… her prowess, for that was the only word that seemed to suit her. Graceful did not suit her, for that seemed too feminine and beautiful for her. The Beast of Crowley was not beautiful, although he supposed she could've been given different circumstances. As it were, though, she was merely… definite. She moved fluidly, but with strict efficiency. She moved as a woman did when they knew they possessed power, and authority. It was a surprising contrast with her appearance. The girl always looked half-starved, and her growth had been stunted as a result. Her hair was knotted, dull and brittle due to poor care. Yet she never cowered. She was a girl of action, and even when she was afraid, she did not stop fighting. She always kept going. And though she may have shot Rose, he hadn't been sure if that was a lie or not, he had no doubt that Rose's life was not in peril. Perhaps the so-said Beast was less a beast than the girl liked to admit even to herself.


End file.
